


''Hey''

by iooiu



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Ghosts and Spirits, a smidgen of angst, but in this case he's a literal dad, i think, if you can call it that ig, its in a whole different dimension, levi's is everyone's dad and no one can convince me otherwise, man this au is so wild, my tags are unreliable please don't read this, someone take word document away from me, uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25021081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iooiu/pseuds/iooiu
Summary: Mikasa is a quiet little girl who has no friends and carries two dead boys around everywhere she goes.
Relationships: Armin Arlert & Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert & Levi, Levi & Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman & Armin Arlert, Mikasa Ackerman & Armin Arlert & Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman & Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman & Levi, Mikasa Ackerman/Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager
Comments: 19
Kudos: 150
Collections: Start Reading





	''Hey''

**Author's Note:**

> so, uhhh, hi

Mikasa was a quiet little girl.

She was a polite, strange, helpful, helpless, weird little girl, but one thing everyone agreed on was that she was quiet. She never spoke unless spoken to, never talked unless talked to, and never communicated unless someone started it. She had been raised with manners in more than one household, and knew that no matter how much she didn’t want to, not replying to someone’s ‘how’re you today?’ was extremely rude.

Adults thought she was delightful, kids thought she was weird. She didn’t particularly care about any of these opinions, because she really only had space in her heart for two, and those spaces had long since been taken.

Mikasa was a quiet little girl with hair the color of raven feathers and eyes that matched the early dew that decorated dark stones before the sun took claim to the sky. She was a strange girl who stared into nothing and tugged her bright red scarf over her face to hide a small smile only she knew about. She didn’t have any friends in the eyes of strangers, and she was the replacement of a bright-eyed boy who screamed at her when they first met. (Carla had been devastated, but did not blame Mikasa for the death of her son. She spread her arms for the small girl with death in her veins and blood on her hands, and welcomed her in her breaking heart.)

(Eren only ever regrets not being able to talk to his mother, never being able to touch her and enter her soft, warm embrace. Mikasa tries to make it up to him by lessening his mother's workload.)

Because Mikasa was a strange little girl with a gaping wound in her chest that fit the shape of her parent’s sprawling bodies laying in pools of their glistening blood, but had been reshaped and filled with the sight of two bright-eyed boys with a thirst for sights beyond the walls.

. . .

She couldn’t cry if he wasn’t crying. Because Eren was brave and he wasn’t crying despite the blood pouring out of his stomach in never ending rivers across his rich skin. His eyes never dulled, and so she wiped away her tears with red fingers and sniffed away her grief. She would be strong. She would be strong for him.

His hair ruffled in the motionless air, and Mikasa heard the echoing of his name beside her ear. He grinned at her, hands tugging at the bright red scarf around his neck.

“Hey.” He breathed softly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it rang in her head and steadied her racing heart.

“Hey.” She replied back, just as soft.

“You look cold.”

She shook her head, but felt shaking fingers press the fabric under her nose, and she felt the chasm in her chest reopen. This boy who she only knew the name of was dying, and he was offering his scarf so she could stay warm. What an idiot, she thought as she took the fabric with quivering fingers and draped it along her shoulder.

(It was really warm.)

“Mikasa? You’ll explain… to my mother, right?”

She didn’t know his mother, she barely knew his name, but she nodded because she owed this boy his last wish.

He hummed, smiling over her shoulder at nothing, and she hid her trembling lips behind his scarf as his bright eyes dulled and the hand clutching the fabric to her nose dropped.

. . .

She was taken in by Grisha Jaeger, who was elbow-deep in grief but somehow took one look at her and thought that maybe, just maybe, Eren considered her his parting gift. He hugged her, placed his stiff jacket over her thin shoulder and led her to her new home.

She felt empty. She didn’t cry at the funeral. She didn’t cry when she heard Carla’s wails through the wooden walls, she didn’t cry when every day, she felt herself quickly forgetting the faces of her parents and the love they gave her. She felt so terribly empty, a gaping hold in her chest that led nowhere, because she had nowhere to go. It yawned and stretched and everything crumbled and fell like leaves to a strong wind, twirling in the skin-chilling air and fluttering down the cavern that led to nowhere. Forever lost because she killed a boy with bright eyes and a voice that screamed to fight and then whispered a wish.

She felt nothing of the warm hugs Carla gave her. She felt nothing of the warm meals she was fed. And when she finally shook herself out of her daze and offered to help around the house, she felt that chasm shake and roar, because how dare she live when there was blood on her fingers and death clinging to her back?

She met Eren for the second time five months after his death.

She was sitting in her room (Eren’s room, she hasn’t touched any of his stuff and only ever ruined the tranquility he left on his bed), fixing a small tear in the shirts Carla gave her while she went out for groceries, when Eren was suddenly peeking at her with large green eyes and a wide smile. She dropped the dress and needle, but she didn’t scream. She never screamed. She just stared and stared, and those eyes stared back. Those same eyes she killed. (Because she had missed the first time, and stabbed him in the stomach before plunging the knife in the man’s chest, but by then it had been too late.)

“You’re dead.” Was what she first whispered, matter-of-factly and devoid of emotion, because she was just stating the obvious truth.

“Yes.”

“You’re dead.”

“Yes.” He repeated with a frown, sitting cross legged across from her and leaning back on his hands.

She just stared, trying to understand how she was seeing a dead boy while trying to understand the funny feeling clawing its way up the chasm in her chest. He blinked at her, then huffed and leaned closer.

“I’m a spirit.”

Okay.

“And since you killed me, I’m attached to you.”

Okay.

“Why aren’t you screaming? I know I screamed the first time it happened.”

She thought, why wasn’t she afraid? This was the same dead boy she killed, now sitting opposite of her with the same bright eyes and rich skin. Why wasn’t she screaming? She wasn’t afraid, no, because she was never afraid. She’d seen an axe chop away at her mother’s neck and blood leak out of her father’s chest. She killed a man and a boy and was living with the dead boy’s family. She wasn’t afraid.

But this funny feeling inside her chest was something she didn’t understand. It was warming her limbs, spreading fire in her veins and lighting her pale skin like a waxy candle. She hadn’t felt warm since she became an orphan, and she startled when she felt the fire lick at her cheeks and brush her in soft sweeps of red fabric and glances of bright eyes.

Oh, she was feeling happy.

This was what happiness felt like.

Once a river has been drained, it understands the true beauty of quenching a dying thirst.

She saw his smile, and she gave him a small smile back. Her muscles felt weird, twitchy and aching because she hadn’t smiled in a while, but she did it for the brave boy who she only knew the name of and already loved with all her heart.

. . .

Mikasa brought it up a week after Eren appeared, and he blinked several times before laughing. She was alone, because she found that no one else saw Eren, and so it would be weird if she talked to him out in the open. Carla was out, (because that was how she coped with the loss, by distracting herself. But she was getting better, and spending more time at home and smiling because grief couldn’t hold onto the heart forever) and Grisha was gone for a business trip like usual. She had quickly finished the dishes because Eren kept complaining that they were boring, and now they sat idly outside in the field beyond the houses, where no one would look at her weirdly because she was talking to nothing.

“You said I was much better than when it happened to you.” She offered after he asked, and he brightened up significantly, his eyes shining and warming her up.

“Oh yeah! I totally forgot about that. I had a spirit too, because of, ah, an accident.”

He seemed sad, but she was curious to know just what this boy did to earn a clinging spirit like the one he himself became. So she asked, because Eren didn’t hide things from her.

“My best friend, he wanted to see beyond the walls, he’s actually the reason I want to see those things too. But because he’s different from all those assholes who like just sitting around like cattle, he was attacked a lot. I tried to help as much as I could, but one day I wasn’t being careful.”

One of the attackers had had a glass shard, wicked and sharp and brushing against Eren’s friend’s – Armin’s – throat like a cold caressing finger. Eren hadn’t been careful, and had shoved forward, and the crooked glass painted a deep line across the boy’s neck.

“I killed him.”

“Oh.”

They succumbed to the silence that slinked into the air between them, but then Eren laughed and looked at her with a smile.

“He’s my spirit.”

Not past-tense.

“So, where is he now?”

“He’s your spirit now.”

. . .

She met Armin the day after, and she was sure there had to be some mistake.

Since Armin was Eren’s spirit, he was bound to Eren. Since Mikasa killed Eren, Eren was bound to Mikasa. Spirits couldn’t be bound to spirits, so Armin's bind was transferred to Eren’s killer; Mikasa.

At least, that was what Armin assumed, because he really didn’t know how the whole spirit thing worked.

Okay, so she had two dead boys instead of one. Somehow the chasm that Eren had been slowly filling was rumbling again, and the filling was rising up faster because now she had two hearts to her own instead of just one.

She didn’t know Armin, but she met him in the late evening. Carla was asleep, and Mikasa was crawling into bed when Eren suddenly appeared like a flickering light, blindly smiling and clutching the hand of a small boy her age.

Eren had told Armin to stay away, just until Mikasa settled in and got used to the idea of being haunted by two ghosts.

“Mikasa!” He yelled, and she shushed him despite knowing Carla couldn’t hear. He waved her off, pulling the boy closer. He stumbled somehow, despite not being alive and tangible.

“This is Armin, my best friend. Armin already knows you because he’s been around, ya’ know?”

“Hi.” The small, small boy with big blue eyes and golden hair whispered, letting go of Eren’s hand to wave at her. She blinked, because this was Eren’s best friend? The one he spent all day blabbering about how ‘awesome and cool and incredible and did I mention awesome?’ this boy was. But he was nothing like Mikasa’s previous predictions.

He was so small. So small and quiet, so unlike Eren in any way shape or form, and yet somehow, he fit her image exactly.

She waved back, tugging her scarf up and accepting the second dead boy she was given. She wouldn’t mind.

. . .

“Mikasa,” Eren whined loudly, out of boredom or simply because he could, she couldn’t tell. But she was washing the dishes with Carla, so she ignored him. That didn’t stop his whining though. “Let’s go outside. It’s so boring in here.”

“Leave her alone Eren. She’s being responsible.” Armin shot out half-heartedly from where he sat, reading the open newspaper Grisha had left on the table. Throughout the two months she knew Armin, she found he was the calm to Eren’s wild, raging storm.

“You don’t get an opinion because you’re boring.” Eren shot back, crossing his arms.

“This is payback for all the times you dragged me around everywhere, both before and after I died.” The small blonde smirked, and promptly fell to the ground when Eren tackled him, pulling at his hair.

Mikasa hid her small smile behind her red scarf.

. . .

Mikasa flipped the page of the book so Armin could keep reading it. He liked reading, and Eren and Mikasa liked listening, so they sat against the tree, two dead boys on either side of her as she flipped through Armin’s favourite (forbidden) book.

“The ocean! A vast expanse of water so big you can’t see the end. And filled with so much salt that merchants could spend their whole lives selling it and it still wouldn’t run out!” He exclaimed, excitement lighting up those blue eyes she’s come to love just as much as green speckled with gold and silver.

“Mikasa! Take us to the ocean one day!” Eren burst in, yearning for the beyond stretching plainly across his rich skin. He looked so alive when he talked about the lands beyond the wall, and when Armin joined in his vigorous dream-like scenarios, she couldn’t help but admire the lightness in their inhumane forms. They looked Alive. And if seeing the ocean would make them feel that way, how could she deny them that?

“Okay.”

“Join the Survey Corps. Then you’ll be able to go outside the walls all the time, and slay titans like a badass.”

“Eren, that could be dangerous,” Armin warned, but he couldn’t hide the longing either.

So she nodded in determination. She would live for all three hearts that she carried.

“Okay.”

. . .

The man was short, but still obviously taller than her. He furrowed his thin brows and glared down at her with a pained look that she recognized as nostalgia. Either that or some depressing flashback.

She did not back down against his stare, and beside her Eren was drooling in admiration, while Armin was looking at Grisha for some sort of explanation. The man sighed, drawing the trio’s eyes to him as he straightened up and glanced at Grisha.

“You’re sure she’s an Ackermann?”

“Her father’s inheritor, yes. Her mother was an Oriental, but she’s an Ackermann.” He explained. Her parents? She almost forgot she had had parents at one point, because their faces were blurred and her family now consisted of two dead boys (not that she minded).

It had been a whole year since she met them, and she would already die for them.

The man, with his dark hair and pale skin, looked down his nose at her once more, and she glared back. She ignored the nagging tug inside her mind, probably Armin, telling her not to get on his bad side because he figured something out that she was still oblivious to. Then another tug came, and it was Eren telling him to shut the hell up because _the_ Levi-Heichou was standing before them, green cape and uniform and 3DMG and all.

“Fine, I’ll be back in three months with everything in order.” He finally cut the staring contest between the two of them, and swiftly left the house without another word, cape flapping out of the door and wings soaring into the air.

Grisha bent down to her level and took her by the shoulders. He looked sad, but he smiled anyway and gave her a hug, and she tried not to look at the hurt in Eren’s eyes as she returned it.

“That was Levi Ackermann. He’s your relative, so he’s going to take you in.” She nodded. “He’s quite busy at the moment, but he said he’d be back soon, so you’ll have time to prepare.” She nodded. “We’ll miss you very much.”

Carla hugged her, and she ignored the wet drops on her shoulders as Eren’s mother lost her little boy’s legacy.

. . .

A month later, and the wall fell. She only remembers snippets; the sound of stones hitting the pavement, Eren running so hard and so full of fury that he dragged Mikasa as well, being bound to her and all, and Armin mustered just enough energy to give Hannes’s jacket a hard tug that forced him to see Mikasa turn the corner and run towards the titans before he flickered and disappeared.

Carla was under the rubble, and her legs were crushed and Eren’s energy was fueled with nothing but terror and grief and anger and she was compelled to help him try and lift the support pillar off her body.

“Mikasa! You need to go. You must leave.” She gasped, and when Eren screamed and flickered like a raging flame, Carla’s eyes snapped to the empty space on her right, and her smile turned sad.

“Eren, my baby, take Mikasa and run.” And Eren was so shocked that his mother spoke to him, that he reached forward to brush her cheek she smiled again, that when he felt the inevitable tug that meant Mikasa was being carried away, he cried and screamed and wailed. Carla was hefted up into the hands of death and snapped in half by the jaws of a monster.

He never looked away, and vanished when Hannes got Mikasa onto a boat with Armin’s grandfather.

. . .

Overrun with hate and grief, Eren became very much like an angry ghost constantly at Mikasa’s side, a dark presence slinking behind her and chilling the air, mutterings of killing and killing and killing. It was during this time, when Mikasa was a refugee working in the fields for food and the plan to take back Wall Maria was initiated, that Eren snapped.

Armin was nowhere to be seen, probably mourning over the loss of his grandfather, and Eren had already been in a sour mood when Mikasa’s blanket had been stolen while she was out working.

The boy had been close to dying anyway, wispy hair and thin limbs covered in bruises and broken teeth. He lay in the dirt while the others picked at him and stole his food, his clothes, his dignity, his will to live.

Eren snapped, dove into the boy, and beat the others senseless with fists of bone and skin.

The boy died when he retracted his spirit, but it was enough to quench Eren’s need for violence, so it had been worth it.

Armin returned, no one said anything, but Mikasa watched Eren hug him in the dead of night, and Mikasa did too, because she kept forgetting that these were dead boys and not real ones. She expected to faze through, like she normally did whenever she attempted to touch them or they tried to playfully shove her, but instead of passing through icy nothingness her flesh came in contact with his and they both jolted but never wavered in their embrace.

Eren hugged her for the first time too. They were both so warm, like the warmth in her little candle heart that only held room for two, and it was enough.

Trauma had a way of building strength.

. . .

Armin had come up with the idea.

But Mikasa was the one who initiated it, because she was the only one who could. Armin was filled in on what Eren did, and though they never tried possessing people before (they did, actually, once, and Eren had disappeared for two days after that), Armin was intelligent enough to make a plan.

On the bridge of death, they could steal someone’s body.

Souls were a powerful thing, and Mikasa had yet to find someone like her, who could see and feel and touch dead souls, but that didn’t mean they weren’t powerful. A body could only hold one soul, and you couldn’t just shove a soul out of the body that was designed for them, it just wasn’t how it worked. The invader would always lose, because the vessel was shaped for what it carried, not what wanted to be carried.

But on the verge of death, Armin speculated, when the spirit left and there was a slip in time where the body was alive without an owner, _that_ was when they could slip in and take over. No fighting over control, and they could then mould the body to their liking.

It was just a hypothesis, but Mikasa was willing to do anything for these boys who gave her colour and warmth, like glowing embers crawling up her throat and spreading through her muscles, so she complied easily.

They were all she had, and she would do anything to give them a body.

So, one lone evening after weeks of spying for the perfect poor souls unfortunate enough to catch their eyes, they lit the spark to their plan.

Mikasa cornered the first boy, scarf clutched in one hand and death in the other (she didn’t want to mare the bodies with knife marks if the boys were going to inhabit them, they deserved immaculate skin). The boy was her age, slightly shorter with long strands of light brown hair tugged into a ponytail, and wide brown eyes. They stayed wide as she muffled his cries with her hand and wrung the scarf tightly around his neck, tighter and tighter until the thrashing grew softer and softer.

She glanced up at Armin when his legs barely brushed against the floor and his eyes dulled, and the blonde took a deep breath, whispered an apology to the wind, and sank into the body. A dead boy in a dead boy.

She left to get Eren’s body next, and felt nothing in her chest but the warmth of a flickering wax candle, a mending crack within her heart that used to be a chasm of nothing.

She did not see Eren nor Armin for a week afterwards. She knew they were fine, because in her head the tiny pinpricks of grunting and whispering could be heard and the corners of her heart never froze over. So she worked twice as hard for twice as much food and stole the blanket lying beside her because that person was probably too dead to miss it anyways. She felt lonely, yes, but she braved it over with still hands (hands that killed) and hardened eyes (eyes that roamed over the crowd in search of the two souls who gave her life despite being dead).

A week later, she re-met Eren Jaeger.

He was as tall as she was, rich-skinned and bright-eyed, with a smile that could rival the sun and determination that could rival any army. She distinctly remembers how the boy’s (the original boy) hair had been red, and his eyes had been blue, and he had had freckles plastered over his nose. But now, standing before her was Eren, brought back to life.

(Or something like that.)

Armin came a day later, blonde-haired and blue-eyed like he had always been, but he looked small. Where Eren was filled with strength, Armin was filled with cunning. They were both strong in their own ways.

She hugged them both, gave them both slices of bread, and watched them cry over having the feeling of taste again, and she thought to herself; yes, all of it had been worth it.

. . .

They weren’t alive, no, they were… occupying a space.

Because they didn’t sleep.

When Mikasa went to sleep, she slept knowing Eren and Armin were still awake, because dead souls could not sleep. They could give the impression of sleeping, slipping out of their bodies and giving their vessels a coma-like existence, but they never truly slept.

They had to eat to sustain their body, they had to work to build muscle, they had to blink and breathe and excrete and they did everything a living being needed to, but sleeping was for the mind, and so they did not sleep.

Armin explained it like having a piece of wet clay, and constructing it and shaping it how you like because it would never dry, would never be perfect. But they could leave the clay as is for a while, leave the body and drift around like the restless souls they were. At night Eren and Armin looked for food and pickpocketed the wealthy soldiers whose pockets were lined with gold. With physical bodies, there were not bound to be wherever Mikasa was, and therefore had free reign over where they went.

Essentially, they were puppeteers, and their bodies were the puppets, and Mikasa was their leash.

As souls, they were bound, and they didn’t mind.

. . .

Eren was the first to remember what pain felt like. He had picked a fight and was having his ass handed to him before Mikasa came swooping in to save him, like always. He lay on the ground, hands clenched in the dirt and clenching Mikasa’s heart along with it as he stared below him. Armin bent over to help him up, but when Eren finally turned to them he smiled, a big, wobbly smile full of blood and bruises, and yet it filled Mikasa up like a cup all the same.

“I can feel pain. Armin, can you believe it! It’s like I’m alive again!”

And Armin had laughed with him while Mikasa hid behind her scarf, helping Eren bandage his broken pinky and wash away the blood on his mouth.

. . .

Around a year later, Levi found her. Eren had a key around his neck, and the three of them were surviving.

When _the_ Levi, Humanity's Strongest, stopped before the huddled group as they ate their spoiling bread, Eren dropped his meal altogether. The man didn’t spare his ogling a glance, (Armin shoved him in the ribs, and Eren pulled his hair), but he did bend down to her eye level, taking in her ragged clothes and thin structure.

“You’re that same brat, right?”

She nodded, and he got up after she repeated her name, and then took her by the arm and started walking away.

While she was dazed, (because he was an Ackermann too, right? How? She’s only met him once, for a few minutes,) Eren charged forward, suddenly uncaring about the fact that this was _the_ Levi, Humanity's Strongest, and kicked him in the shin. It probably hurt Eren more than it hurt Levi, but it made him let Mikasa go, and she quickly made her way back to the two boys and their abandoned bread.

“You can’t take her away!” Eren yelled, and Levi sighed irritably through his nose, shoving Eren away with his foot.

“Get lost kid, I already promised to take her in.”

“But you can’t. Mikasa’s our family now. Doesn’t fighting and surviving together tighten bonds of family more than some distant blood?” Armin shot back.

Armin was smart, and he was unkind. A deadly combination, added with a moral compass led by those who had his heart, and there were only two who fit that role. Levi was a soldier, so of course he knew that fighting and drawing blood together was stronger than any barely-glanced-at family tree with a fucked-up history drenched in persecution.

Armin was smart, because the man scowled at him.

“Shut the fuck up brat. You’re-“

“Don’t you dare call Armin anything!” And then Eren was at it again, punching and kicking and banging fists against a wall of brick because Levi just held him by the collar of his jacket inches off the ground, effortlessly rendering him useless.

At this point, Mikasa stepped in, because someone was going to get hurt and it was most definitely Eren, who had no self-preservation skills whatsoever.

“I’ll come with you if they can too.”

“Fuck no.”

“I’ll come with you if they can too.”

He sighed again, heavily through the nose, dropping Eren in an undignified lump and turning to her with his cold gaze. She didn’t understand why he couldn’t just leave them, because he was a Survey Corps captain who was known by everyone as Humanity’s Strongest. But there was something in his eyes, something she recognized as empathy, and she realized that he was probably looking in a mirror right now, if he was as determined as he was.

But she was determined too. Determined and stubborn, because what he didn’t understand was that she _couldn’t_ leave the two dead boys even if she wanted to (which she never would). The moment they would leave their bodies they’d flicker and reappear by her side, and she'd have to find them new bodies.

She didn’t want to kill, and Armin had explained that this was his second time occupying someone (his first body hadn't been strong enough), as that it was draining, and if they surpass their limit they may not come back. She didn’t want to risk losing one of them forever because she wasn’t capable of keeping them safe.

So she glared up at the man, Eren hovering behind her and Armin behind him, their skin cold and their touch warm, just like the chasm that no longer cracked and rumbled against her ribs.

“If I end up regretting this decision, I’m feeding you to Hange’s titans.” He muttered, relenting, because he could see how they clung to each other, and was reminded of another lifetime, and who was he to deny them what he treasured and lost so foolishly. He would not be the one to rip apart something so precious.

She didn’t know who Hange was, or where they were going, or what was going to happen next, but she felt Eren’s hand clasped in her own, and saw Armin’s held in Eren’s, and thought to herself; this will do just fine.

. . .

“How on earth are you _that_ incompetent,” Levi muttered; fingers tracing dust gathered beneath the chair’s handle.

“Well, it’s not my fault cleaning is stupid!” Eren yelled back, crossing his arms defiantly and pouting, but manly pouting because Eren didn’t like being called out for his childish pouting.

“You little… you’ll be cleaning up the bathroom with nothing but a toothbrush if you don’t shut the fuck up and clean _properly_.”

To a stranger's ears, Levi would sound like an abuser. To Eren, he was. In reality, Eren just sucked at cleaning and Levi was a clean freak with a habit of cursing and threatening people all. The. Time.

_“If you don’t fucking wash your dishes your sleeping outside.”_

_“I swear, one more fun fact about seagulls and I’m gonna’ throw your tiny ass in the oven.”_

_“Oi, brat! I’ll skin you alive if you ever try to climb that tree again!”_ (Hint hint, Eren climbed it again, twice.)

He was… interesting, and caring in his own way. He was harsh and was young and didn’t know how to care for children because he had been stripped of his childhood too early in life, but he was trying, and even though Eren pissed him off on purpose and loudly proclaimed his desire for bloodshed, and Mikasa broke into his weapons case and tried to use his 3DMG, and Armin crept around and spied on his conversations with other officers, he still cared. Cared enough not to drop them outside to fend for themselves all over again at least.

Apparently he was a masochist and loved suffering, because he was in too deep to let them go even if he wanted to.

His work kept him busy, and he was on missions a lot of the time, but the kids preoccupied themselves enough that he wasn’t worried. Mikasa knew how to cook, Armin read books and Eren trashed his place up while he was gone. It was manageable, and didn’t cost him anything because he was being paid by the government anyway, so it wasn’t like he was in trouble financially.

Or maybe he was, as he soon realized. Because as soon as he stepped into his room within the Survey Corps’ main facility within Wall Rose, three pairs of footsteps thundered towards him.

“Levi-Heichou!” Because he wasn’t ‘dad’ or ‘father’ or ‘big brother’ (that one twisted something in his chest the wrong way), but he wasn’t merely ‘Levi’ either. The little shits were hellbent on joining the Training Corps, and if their guardian was a Survey captain, he was their captain too.

“Heichou, Heichou, we cleaned your room for you!” Eren stated proudly, peering up at him with wide acidic eyes. Armin nodded too, and Mikasa drew her scarf up close to her nose. He felt something warm burst in his gut and threatened to choke him, but he was okay for once because he wouldn’t mind succumbing to such a nice feeling. Pride? Was this what pride felt like? Not the rich bastard kind that boasted about wealth and dreams and status, but the one that surfaced when someone you cared about strived to please you, and you couldn’t deny them that.

He looked into the three sets of bright eyes and thought, if this was the Survey Corps’ next generation, then he would be fine handing over the reigns.

(They stacked his books wrong and the papers were rolled in the wrong order and his clothes were hazardously hung, but the dust was cleaned for the most part, and yeah, maybe the floor was a little too wet and the bedsheets a little too rumpled, but he just smirked and ruffled the three heads full of hair and potential, and gave them the sweet nuts he’s been storing after dinner.)

. . .

It had been an accident, really. It had been a bullshit accident in Eren’s view, but an accident nonetheless.

There had been a fire. Not in their facility, but one of the rooms near them. Armin and Eren had been spirits, and Mikasa had been sleeping, and Levi had been cleaning his gear when the shouts and bells went off. He quickly abandoned his task to shake away the trio, but only Mikasa woke up; Eren and Armin had flickered out to what they had described as the closest thing to sleep as they could get, floating in a space that didn’t exist for people.

Levi didn’t think, just grabbed the bodies and bolted with Mikasa close on his heels. By the time he got out of the building, the alarms had been called off and Hange was sent to the Commander's office for a chewing-out session which involved more exasperated sighs from Erwin and less guilty feelings from Hange than what was required.

Armin and Eren were still unconscious (coma-like), and it was then that Mikasa realized she should probably call them back. The buzzing in her head grew as she called out their names, and she saw them flicker into existence, blinking and looking around as they were dragged by Mikasa to the room.

“What happened?” Armin asked, glancing at Levi who carried their limp, cold bodies (no soul meant no warmth, even if blood was being pumped).

She just shook her head, pulled her scarf up and hoped that Levi wouldn’t notice how the boys stirred and warmed up beneath his touch.

(He noticed.)

“What the fuck was that?” he growled once they were inside, at the three of them that were seated on the floor while he paced back and forth. He wasn’t just angry, he was genuinely concerned, and that made them worry even more.

“You don’t wake up to the bells, not to me manhandling you, and only when we’re going back? And why were you guys so cold? Do you have some condition or shit?”

Eren didn’t speak because he didn’t know what to say. Mikasa didn’t speak because she didn’t know how to say it. And Armin didn’t speak because he knew how to do both.

Unfortunately, Levi knew this too, and turned to the blonde in fury. Armin couldn’t help but flinch.

“You little shit, you’re smart, I know you know. So tell me what’s going on. This isn’t the first time either.”

It wasn’t. It had happened when Eren flickered out during dinner, when he didn’t want to deal with Mikasa or Armin, when he was feeling fatigued after coming home one day and collapsing, staying still for hours (he knew something the two others didn’t, and he was going to keep quiet for as long as he could).

Armin didn’t flicker as often as Eren, but he still did. When he forgot to eat, when his mind wandered, when he was trying to listen in on conversations between other captains between the walls and Levi would come in unannounced.

Armin averted his gaze, but Levi persisted, nudging the boy with his foot.

“Oi, I’m talking to you.”

He kept his gaze down.

“Brat, you better answer.”

His lips pressed tightly against each other, and his mind was reeling. Levi had been caring for them for months now, he deserved to know if they were going to stay. But what would he do if he found out he was housing a killer and two dead boys?

“I’m going to give you five-“

“I’m dead!”

Eren blinked in shock, Mikasa hid her agape mouth behind her scarf, and Levi short-circuited, his foot hovering over Armin’s ribs as if to nudge him again.

“…what?”

“Uhm, me and Eren, we’re… spirits, and we’re occupying the bodies of-.”

“Back up, back up. You’re… what the fuck?”

. . .

Levi was angrier at the fact that they didn’t tell him their secret rather than the fact of what their secret was about.

“So, let me get this straight. Eren killed Armin, and Mikasa killed Eren, so now you two are ghosts, and Mikasa… did what?”

“Ah, got us new bodies.”

“You… the fuck?”

“I killed them.”

“So you were, what? Reborn?”

“Not quite.” Armin shook his head, and then explained how they could leave, how they could step out of their vessels, and how they couldn’t sleep.

All in all, Levi only beat them shitless a little bit during their sparring, and then gave them bread and butter while he drank his tea. Eren tugged on his sleeve and asked if he was mad.

“Why the fuck would I be mad?” And they realized he was well beyond the point of being surprised or shocked by something, so they smiled, hugged him goodnight, and he touched his chest when he realized that was the first he hugged someone since… a very long time.

. . .

He went to sleep, and another realization hit him, like a splash of cold water drizzling down his neck and tracing cold fingers on his spine. He lay awake for hours trying to comprehend the fact that two out of the three kids he’s taken under were fucking dead, and another two out of the three were fucking murderers.

. . .

“Eren, I don’t care if you’re already dead, I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t do the dishes.”

. . . 

They made due.

. . .

By the end of the second year, they had all enlisted for the Training Corps, and Levi can’t help but think that this is what they were meant to do.

Eren was an idiot through and through, but he was determined and held the heated motivation of an army and then some. Mikasa was the army, for she was strong and skilled and held true to her Ackermann bloodline, and he had no doubt that she would look after her foolish boys. Armin was smart. For all he lacked in physique, he was gifted with an intellect strong enough to counter armies without raising a fist.

He would say he was proud, because he technically raised these little shits, and you know what? He _was_ proud. They were the most annoying brats he’s ever had the displeasure of knowing, and they sucked his energy dry with all their complaining and antics, but he would look forward to seeing them in two years' time, when they got their week-long break.

Before leaving, the three of them came up to him bearing gifts.

Mikasa gave him a bracelet she made out of his torn up shirts (she had quietly explained how the embroidery was a talent she inherited from her mother). Armin made him another bracelet, but his was a little thick and slipped easily on his ankle because his wrist was too small (he bashfully explained how he had noticed Levi favouring the colour blue, and had saved up enough money to buy as many different colours of blue as he could find). Eren had (crudely) braided him a necklace, twisted together strands of silk around a thin metal that hung comfortably around Levi’s neck (he had proudly explained that he had spent weeks looking for the perfect people to steal from, because they were rich enough to lose a few pieces of fine cloth).

He wore all of the small adornments, gave them each a pat on the head, and sent them off with expectations for them to grow stronger than they already were.

(He wore their gifts everywhere, because he couldn’t find it in him to take them off).

. . .

Armin’s body died again, and Mikasa found him a new one, but something was up.

Armin was stupid. For all his intelligence, he was really dumb sometimes.

He didn’t eat as much as he needed to. He claimed it was because he’d been dead for so long that he forgot he needed to, but his stomach wasn’t as big as Mikasa’s or Eren’s, and it was up to them to get him to eat. He also claimed that they needed the food more than he did because they needed to get stronger, but they both called bullshit and gave him a portion of their bread.

But after his body wilted and Mikasa found him another, he reappeared like every other time, but he looked tired.

“Guess my prediction was correct after all.” He had laughed shallowly, not arguing when Eren poured his milk into Armin’s cup, or when Mikasa slid her soup over to him.

He couldn’t keep switching bodies. If he did it again, he was sure he wouldn’t have the strength to return.

. . .

Eren took care of his body much better than Armin. He didn’t switch ever since the first time he got it back in the refugee camps. It was like he was attached to it. He barely left, trained hard and some nights he would disappear, only to come back in the morning with pale skin, a bloody nose, and a triumphant smile.

The other two had finally snapped and asked him what he was hiding.

They already had a vague idea, because their minds were linked and even though in their human forms their connection wasn’t as strong, it was hard to keep a secret.

Eren explained, as the three of them hid behind a tall tree after lights out, what his father had done, and why he couldn’t afford to lose his body no matter what.

. . .

Training was vigorous, painstakingly hard, and incredibly tiresome. Some days, when Eren would come back from running penalty laps around the area, he’d just drop into his bunk without so much as an attempt at taking off his uniform. His bunk was at the top, of course, beside Armin, so climbing the damn ladder was an issue all by itself.

But there were people there with him, and friends that he made through sweat, blood and tears. People he would gladly call his comrades.

Jean was a dick. Sasha was a dumbass. Connie was even more of a dumbass. Marco was supporting. Reiner was strong. Ymir was a bitch. Christa was kind. Bertolt was well-mannered. Annie was terrifying. Mina was sweet. Thomas was easy-going. Mylius was funny. Nac was careful. Daz was a coward. Franz was love-struck. Hannah was also love-struck.

Mikasa was legendary in her strength and feared by everyone but Annie (they had some beef).

Armin was smart, not feared by anyone, but no one needed to know why they should be afraid.

And Eren? Eren was an idiot, marginally better in the field than in the classroom, but held enough flames to burn down all of Humanity.

. . .

“Are you like her boyfriend or something?” Connie asked one day at dinner. Mikasa had already left with Armin, leaving Eren to chat and idly loiter in the mess hall.

“Who?”

“You and Mikasa?”

“What?! Ew, no. Why would you even say that?”

“Because,” Jean butt in, leaning heavily on Connie, “she’s always hovering around you, and never takes her eyes off you.”

“That’s because she’s looking out for me, dumbass.” Eren shot back, surprised anyone would think of anything like that with Mikasa and himself. She was his sister in everything but blood, and he would die for her ten times over if it meant keeping her safe. He would do the same for Armin too, and knew the feeling was reciprocated by both.

“Really? ‘Cause it seems like she cares a lot about you, like, a lot a lot.” Connie kept going, straightening up from underneath Jean’s arm.

“She cares about Armin like that too.”

“She doesn’t even look at the pipsqueak.”

Eren shrugged, finding the conversation pointless, but then a spark of an idea came to his mind, and he grinned.

“If you really think like that, then try and corner Armin. You won’t even get a chance to get away.”

Jean took the bait instantly, the need to one-up Eren was just as strong as Eren’s desire to one-up Jean. They were both idiots of the same kind.

“Oh really? If I do, you have to do my laundry next round.”

“Fine.” He replied, with far most confidence behind his tone than he should have let on, but how could he help it? He was going to be able to go to sleep knowing Jean was doing his round of laundry for him.

. . .

“Armin!” The blonde turned around to find Jean waving at him, and he left Eren’s side to meet him. “Want to be my partner for this shit?”

Armin had no idea why anyone would want to be his partner for this type of hand-to-hand combat training, unless it was to easily avoid trying too hard, but he shrugged and agreed, because Jean was nice and didn’t usually take these things too seriously, so he thought, why not?

Shadis barked the order to begin, and Armin held his defensive stance as Jean charged at him with a wooden knife with far too much speed to be considered laid back.

He dodged to the side, using his smaller physique to slip between his legs and kick behind his knees, but he didn’t kick hard enough and Jean grabbed his ankle, pulling him from the ground and throwing him to the floor again. The blonde backed up and sent a spree of dirt in Jean’s eyes, which offered him enough time to scramble up and aim a kick to his ribs. He coughed and staggered back as Armin regained his position, but only just managed to turn in time to duck under the upcoming knife. He was about to spring back up, but failed to see the leg swinging at him until it was too late, and he felt it collide with his body and send him sprawling in the dirt several meters away.

He coughed and sputtered, because in all honesty, he hadn’t seen that coming and probably should have because now he felt his legs being pressed to the ground under a heavy weight and an arm pressing down on his throat. He tried breathing in and finding an opening, fruitlessly pressing his knee at Jean’s chest to keep him from lowering any further, but man, it was tough when you were trying to stop all of his dead weight.

After finding no opening, Armin yielded, and Jean got off and offered him a hand.

“Not bad.”

“Not bad yourself.” Armin grinned, taking the knife from him and charging.

That had not been a good idea.

He was flipped immediately, hearing rather than feeling the ground collide with his back and stars dancing in his vision. Then he felt his breath return to him like a cold waterfall rushing into his lungs, and he knew he would have a nasty bruise from this fall for sure.

Jean’s hand came back, and he took it, and was hefted to his feet.

“That… was a good move.” He gasped, handing the knife back and leaning on his knees to gain his stolen breath. Jean just laughed and smacked him good-naturedly on the back, and Armin saw his life flash before his eyes.

. . .

“Well Jaeger, looks like you’re on laundry duty tonight?”

Eren glanced up from his sad excuse of a soup, raising an eyebrow at the taller male while he grinned.

“Oh really?”

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’, drinking the rest of his soup in one single gulp and throwing the tin plate into the wash bucket in the corner.

“You sure about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I-”

A shadow cast over the table, and Jean felt a dark presence loom from behind him. He turned around slowly, looking up and up to find Mikasa glaring down at him with eyes full of promised death.

“Jean. Let’s have a chat outside.”

Armin came inside the mess hall with his tray and a bandage around his sprained wrist, and quizzically stared as Jean slinked behind Mikasa and out the door with the look of a frightened animal. He made his way to Eren and sat down, taking note of his friend’s smirk.

“Do I even wanna’ know?”

“It’s better if you don’t.”

Later that evening, Jean nursed numerous bruises and a sprained ankle while he washed Eren’s filthy clothes alongside his own.

. . .

Mikasa graduated top of the class, Eren graduated fifth, and they all made it to the next step. They saluted with their fists pressed tight against their chests and dreams just within their fingers grasp.

. . .

The wall fell for the second time.

. . .

Mikasa was put in the vanguard, and the boys were put in the front because the elite squad had been overwhelmed and overrun, and Mikasa couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of dread creep up in her gut and take hold of her candle heart with cold fingers, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe.

Armin was down to his last body, Eren couldn’t afford to lose his, and if one of them died a second time, it would be the end. She would be alone. Eren wouldn’t leave his body until the last breath, and his soul would flicker and fade and disappear because he didn’t leave in time and she couldn’t risk that.

She told them to be careful, she pulled Armin in and hugged him so tight that she thought he might break under her arms, but she felt the need to squeeze him, because maybe if she squeezed hard enough, she could transfer some of her strength to him. She knew Eren was angry, but she couldn’t help but tug on his sleeve and burrow her face under her scarf as she begged for him to live.

“Please don’t die again.”

He pulled away, scowling, but offered her a kiss on the cheek and tugged her scarf around her so it sat snug around her neck.

“I won’t let them kill me.”

. . .

Mikasa felt a harsh tug, and felt a flicker, and then felt one of the two hearts beating in her chest vanish.

She felt like screaming, because she couldn’t tell which one of the two had left, and she wasn’t sure she even wanted to know.

She finished off the titan and was given the order to retreat, but all she could focus on was the missing piece inside her gut, and felt a well of deep sorrow embed itself in her mind as the remaining soul wailed. She muttered how she would assist the groups sent upfront, and left before she could be denied with a different order.

She had to find them.

She had to find them.

Her thoughts were muddled, a frenzy of past memories drudging up like washed-up relics and left to clutter her mind. She saw the eyes of her mother, the blood of her father, Carla’s frantic screams, Eren’s wild flailing, Armin’s bright dreams. Everything was muddling up in a hurricane of _where where where_ and _protect protect protect_ and all she could do was follow instinct, follow the remaining beating pulse in her chest that frantically beat against her ribcage like a bird’s wings trying to escape a cage. She wanted to know, she didn’t want to know, she needed to find out, she didn’t know if she wanted to, she had to protect protect protect because she couldn’t, she just couldn’t go through all of that pain and suffering again. She wouldn’t be able to make it out alive.

She saw the group, saw mingling heads of brown and black and blonde and red, but she knew who she was looking for. The shade of the deepest tree roots and singed with the sky’s flare, grounded like the earthy soil she used to part for seeds, rich with everything needed to nurture. And then a head of golden thread and a seaside parting against his eyes, molten strands of the sun placed on a head full of dreams.

She needed to find one, she needed to find both. She needed needed needed-

She saw Annie, and asked for Eren’s squad, where were they? Were they all alright? Who else is still alive?

Annie answered short and curt, and Reiner pointed to where he last saw Armin come in.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and then choked again, because if Armin was safe that meant Eren was… oh lord no. Eren wasn’t in threat of disappearing if he switches bodied, but Mikasa knew how important Eren’s body was, and knew that he would likely stay until his heart stopped, and she didn’t know (nor did she want to know) what would happen to him if he died a second time and didn’t leave as Armin had.

She spotted him, her little ghost boy with blonde hair and blue eyes set in bodies that always appeared too small for her liking. She tried finding hosts with large statures, thick bones coated with the barest minimum of muscle that would ensure Armin’s strength, but every time he came back, those thick bones and fibered muscle would be diminished to nothing but a thin skeleton with thin fingers reaching for the sea. Levi had speculated that it was because that was what Armin would have looked like had he been alive, and that a body was made for the soul.

Now though, now he looked too small, huddled in the corner near the wall, head cast down to hide his brilliant eyes. He looked small and frail and she needed to know he was alright because she was losing it, not knowing where Eren was while Armin sat like a porcelain doll, lifelessly. Her dead boys were dying and she couldn’t do a thing.

She touched down by his feet and bent down to grab his hands, pushing his hair away and listening to his breath hitch, and she braced herself for the onslaught of tears and screams of despair. But when he looked up, she could see his wide, wide smile and glistening eyes.

A second heartbeat, faint but present, pulsed beneath her own, and she breathed.

“Armin.” She whispered, and he gulped shakily, let out a wispy laugh, and collapsed in her arms.

“Mikasa. Oh lord, I really thought I was done. But then- but then _Eren-_ he- I don’t know but he just…. He lost a leg and arm- but I didn’t- he came back- but I wasn’t even looking and then he- Mikasa he changed _inside_ that thing and I thought he was done but- he changed…..

“Mikasa….” He frowned, his voice regaining its usual articulation, “he’s on a rampage, he’s wreaking havoc.”

She tugged her scarf around her neck to hide her smile, though she knew Armin knew, and got up, helping the blonde up while she checked his slimy body for injuries. He was shaky, but he was fine, and when Mikasa claimed that she was going to fight their way to the supply room, Jean took a deep breath and followed along, bringing with him everyone else.

Armin’s cold, limp body hung lifelessly from her shoulder, and she only let him go when she was sure he was fully coherent and ready to go himself.

“How’d it go?” She asked, dodging a titan and slitting its nape. Armin had switched blades with her, so she didn’t need to worry about running out.

“Ah, as well as you could expect.”

. . .

“Eren! Calm the fuck down, you're going to burn yourself out.”

“Fuck you! And how’d you even get in here?”

“I’m a ghost you idiot, now go attack the titans on HQ.”

“Get out of my Titan Arlert!”

. . .

Mikasa was a graceful dancer in the air, but unfortunately not many were like her. She would slip past one’s fingers, only for a poor cadet to get snatched up and bitten before anyone could save them.

She wanted to say she cared. She wanted to feel anguish at their morbid ends, but she felt nothing. The sight of near-strangers being swallowed didn’t deter her, and the previous fear that had taken hold of her heart when Eren had disappeared no longer swam in her mind. She was calm because he was alright.

Jean had split the cadets into two groups, each tailing either him or Mikasa as the rounded to HQ, but as they all crashed through the windows and landed on hardwood and glass shards, Jean took one look around the meagre handful of people left standing and cried. Cried because those soldiers died on his command, and he stepped over their bodies without batting an eye.

But at least he cried. Mikasa only glanced at Annie, who caught her eye and nodded, before making her way to the supply closet where the Military Police kept extra emergency equipment while Armin constructed a plan.

Eren’s enraged roars could be heard from inside, and his thundering footsteps shook the very foundation of the building, shook her core in a familiar way that made her warm with recognition.

. . .

They survived, Eren blocked the hole left in Trost’s gate, and they met Levi again for the first time in three years.

Well, only Eren got to talk to him, but it was under Commander Erwin’s stern gaze, so they kept their conversation cold heartless. But Eren wanted to oh so badly rip off his chains and jump up to greet his… well, parent was too formal and guardian sounded weird, but his _Heichou_ … and tell him everything that’s happened in the last few years. Wanted to spout nonsense and get scolded for being so filthy and wanted Levi’s warm head pats that he gave them as a substitute for hugs.

But he couldn’t, so he hoped to convey his want in his eyes, and saw Levi’s flicker in return.

He got beat up during the court session, and it felt so familiar and he could see Mikasa and Armin trying not to snicker out loud because Eren was getting his ass handed to him and it was always hilarious. Even when the blood pooled in his mouth and he lost a tooth, he could see Mikasa tug her scarf higher and Armin covering his mouth and shielding his giggles behind his shoulder. The jerks.

The Survey Corps got his custody, he was separated from his friends, and taken to an old headquarters that resembled an old, dusty castle with Levi’s Special Operations Squad.

 _What’s it like? Did you get your tooth back?_ Armin’s teased, and he could hear Mikasa smile in his mind.

_Just you wait, you think you’re safe? Think I won’t pull all your hair when I find you?_

_That’s just cruel._

_Boys, quiet. Armin, we’re supposed to be listening._ Mikasa interjected, and Eren made sure they could feel every ounce of his smug grin.

_Right._

They reached the compound, and Eren could already tell that they were going to spend hours upon hours cleaning the layers of dust that had accumulated throughout the years of inhabitancy. He cringed, one of Levi’s men (a guy who reminded Eren of Jean, but less horse and more tongue-biting) asked if he was scared, and Eren tried very hard not to laugh.

. . . 

“I’m done cleaning the rooms you gave me.” Eren proudly exclaimed, jamming his thumb into his chest. Levi turned around, eyebrow raised in skepticism on if he really did clean to his standards, and Eren wilted against the stare that he was given every time Levi gave him a cleaning job.

“You’ll be sleeping in the basement.” Levi turned around to grab his rag and bucket, and Eren wilted further.

“Again? I thought we were past this Heichou.”

“Shut up. I’ll go check your shit-job and see if beating you senseless is worth my time.”

They stared at each other, and Eren had the urge to close the distance between them and demand the head pat he’d been craving since seeing his caretaker back in his cell. From here, Eren gleefully noted how tall he had gotten, with Levi being around his shoulder length. He remembered having to look up at him, and how he vowed to be taller than him. Levi had just scoffed, but who was laughing now?

Levi, apparently. Because the man rolled his eyes at him, ‘tch’d in that condescending way Eren was so used to, and walked up to him. Eren stared wide-eyed, and then yelped when Levi pinched his nose and twisted, smirking before disappearing through the door.

Still nursing a red nose, Eren turned to leave as well, but found himself face to face with a petite woman with soft auburn locks and big eyes. Petra, that was her name.

“You know, I’ve never seen Levi act like that with anyone.”

Eren was suddenly aware of the fact that to stranger’s eyes, he was nothing more than a subordinate tagging along Levi’s team to prove that he wasn’t a threat to humanity. Nobody knew that the man had taken the three of them in after what happened in Shinganshina, so he blinked, rubbed his agitated nose, and shrugged indifferently.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve just met him.”

“Oh, well maybe you remind him of someone.” She replied thoughtfully.

Whether Eren reminded Levi of Farlan and Isabel or if it was just because he raised them for three years, he didn’t know, but fortunately, he didn’t care either.

. . .

He was reunited with Mikasa and Armin and the rest of the 104th a week after arriving at the newly refurbished Survey Corps castle.

He could tell because of the way he felt stronger, more tangible on the inside whenever he was around Mikasa.

“Mikasa! Armin!”

They turned to find him waving excitedly, and they stopped to brace themselves for his enthusiasm.

“What are you guys doing here? Who else joined the Survey Corps?”

“See for yourself,” Connie replied, and Eren turned to see familiar faces that he had spent three years with grin and wave at him.

The future was looking bright.

. . .

The female titan turned out to be Annie Leonhart, and everyone was solemn.

Levi’s squad ended up being massacred, killed brutally and then left to be decoys for the titans, their corpses now ripped to shreds by the hands of monsters.

Reiner and Bertholdt ended up being the enemy, and Ymir left with them.

Levi was assigned a new squad full of traumatized teens who’ve been betrayed and stabbed in the back by their own comrades, and they were given a captain who was just as messed up as they were.

. . .

The night before leaving for their next mission, Levi knocked on Mikasa’s door.

He owed it to them, he kept telling himself, for leaving and not finding them for more than three years. He was supposed to visit, and they were supposed to spend their break with him, but he had been busy, and now he wasn’t and so he owed them this.

He still wondered if this was a good idea. Would seeing them after so long be the right thing for them? He couldn’t give them special treatment compared to the others assigned to his squad just because they were (technically) his kids, but he didn’t want to keep this façade of subordinate and captain, especially if it meant drifting further away from the trio. Though he had to wonder if stepping out of their lives wasn’t the wrong choice after all.

Mikasa answered by peaking through the door, her dark steel eyes widening when she saw him, and she quietly opened the door like she quietly did everything else. He saw her eyes shine with recognition and yearning, and decided that it definitely was worth it, coming back, whatever the consequences may be.

He entered, noting the wash bin in the corner and the dirty rags set with her laundry.

“I see you kept up my cleaning standards.” He started once Mikasa closed the door behind him, nodding at the polished bedframe and scrubbed table. She just nodded back, fingering her stupid scarf and staring at him with her morning-dew eyes that shone like obsidian in the light. She had always been obedient with instructions, and it gave him a strange feeling in his stomach when he saw that she kept it up even after all this time.

He looked up at her (when had she grown so tall?), locking his gaze with hers before she looked down and furrowed her brow with the slightest twitch.

He sighed, because this was the first time he’s been able to get away and talk to her as just him; not their leader or their commander or their superior. Just him, just her _Heichou_. And it was showing how unfamiliar he ended up becoming.

Three years. That’s too long for a child’s guardian to keep out of touch, especially for kids who’ve already lost their families more than once, and were counting on him to last. He rolled his eyes when Mikasa shuffled her feet, averting her eyes to her toes and pushing the red fabric around her neck upwards. Well, he couldn’t be _that_ unfamiliar if she still wanted his affection. If he knew any better, he’d say that she was just as nervous as he had been when Erwin had assigned him his new squad (Levi just _knew_ the blonde commander had caught onto his relation with the Shinganshina brats, he just _knew_ it. Erwin was a sneaky bastard with all sorts of connections, damn him.)

Levi knew she was seeking permission, because she was confused about whether he was Levi, captain of his new operation squad, or Heichou, the asshole who adopted them as kids.

He cocked his head to the side, raising his arms and gesturing lightly with the flick of his wrist, and it was all the permission she needed to tiptoe forward and collapse in his embrace.

Mikasa very rarely trusted, and very rarely let people into her heart. But when she loved she loved fiercely, and he prayed for anyone stupid enough to hurt those close to her while she’s around. Mikasa _had_ grown a lot taller since the last time he’s seen the trio, back when he had dropped them off on the outskirts of the training grounds and bid them good luck, and he tried not to let her new height sour his mood. But it kind of hurt, having to crane his neck up.

Luckily, Mikasa was in no mood to be towering over him and was content with slouching down and resting her forehead on his shoulder, much like the broken little girl he took home with him. And he was content being the protector of three little children running from nightmares and crawling underneath his blankets because ‘Heichou chases away all the bad dreams’. (In Eren and Armin’s case, they hated being left to sit in the dark alone for hours, and discovered a sort of peace within the confines of his sheets).

“You big baby.” He chided lightly, but hugged her back nonetheless. He brushed the back of her short hair just how she liked it and felt rippling muscles beneath his arms, but she still hid in the crook of his neck, and he let her. Because some things never change, and he was glad.

It was actually quite ironic, that the coldest of the three was the one who loved hugs the most.

A year after moving in with him, Mikasa found that she trusted him enough to lower her defences and find solace in his presence. He found out what happened to her, and he told her that he was impressed, and for the first time she had brightened up. She didn’t really give a damn about what other people thought of her; she only had room in her heart for a few opinions, and Levi knew he was one of them (though he wasn’t _boasting_ about winning the heart of a child, he was merely stating the facts).

After a minute, she straightened up with glossy eyes, but he could see she was fine, and that she would overcome the inner turmoil she held like the silent champion she was.

“Where’s Eren?”

“The brat’s in the stables, I already talked to him before.”

She nodded, because she was never one for words. Out of the three of them, the one who utilized words were-

“Armin’s down the hall.”

He huffed, dusting off her bed (even though it didn’t need it) and sat down, wincing at the pops in his knees before gesturing vaguely around the room. He had time.

“The little shit can wait a bit.”

She nodded, and folded herself gracefully into the chair opposite of him, because Mikasa Ackermann did everything with grace and it pissed Eren off to no end.

They talked a bit, but mostly just sat in a comfortable silence that he found himself enjoying, and when it was finally time to get up Mikasa bowed her head and muttered a soft ‘I missed you’ under her breath.

Levi shook his head, ruffled her hair and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, and left without a word. Because Mikasa was a quiet person, very much like the colourless dew drops that clung to stone in the morning before the sun rose.

. . .

He knew Armin was at the end of the hall, but he didn’t know if he was the door on the right or the left. Armin was right-handed, so he took his best chances with the right one and knocked.

A loud thud sounded behind the thick door, followed by a stream of angry, rushed curses that sounded so unlike the timid little boy he knew that Levi was sure he got the wrong door. Especially when Levi heard another, louder thud, like someone tripping, before the door swung open.

He was right.

A tall boy with a long face and two-toned hair stood before him, immediately saluting rigidly when he realized who he was. Levi resisted the urge to slam the door back on him, because this teen was supposed to be one of the members on his new team. So instead of turning around and ignoring him, he simply crossed his arms and looked up (much to his displeasure) with an irritated scowl.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Jean Kirstein, sir!”

“Where’s Armin’s room?”

Kirstein cocked his head, curiosity swimming in his eyes, but he knew better than to question a superior, so he nodded his head forward to the door parallel to him.

“Just across from me sir.”

Levi nodded, waiting until the tall idiot closed the door fully before turning around and knocking again.

Armin was his smartest kid, so surely seeing him will be the easiest out of the three. Eren had been the hardest, for sure, because he was clingy and constantly hung around him when he had the chance, which annoyed Levi to no end, but he understood the sentiment.

A soft shuffling, and then the door slowly creaked open and the small blonde glance up. Then he froze. And then he thumped his fist into his chest like the little fucking soldier he was, and it sat wrong with Levi in a way he couldn’t describe.

He brushed past him, ignoring the squeaky ‘sir’ Armin called out, and glanced around his room the same way he had with Mikasa. It was very much like hers too; nothing was personalized and his small bag of belongings sat in the corner with a small basket. The surface of the desk was a bit dusty and the bed ruffled with unmade sheets, but it was cleaner than the normal rooms, so he gave him points for at least a _ttempting_ to keep things orderly by his standards.

“You still clean like a little kid.” He reprimanded anyway, turning around with his hands on his hips and trying to catch the blonde’s eye, but Armin refused to look at him, and kept his salute strong and back straight. He took back what he said about Armin being the easiest. Each of his kids was fucked up in their own way, and he sighed to himself when he realized he had to use different tactics for all of them.

Armin was great with words, but hated actually listening to them. He didn’t do too well with authority, especially if said authority was ignorant and illogical. But unlike Eren, who was brash and did things without thinking through, Armin was the kind of kid who spun his words like fine silks and then draped them on the bodies of those unfortunate enough to fall into his melody. But as he folded, he would pull tighter and tighter, until you found yourself unable to breathe. And then you realize, fuck, it was a trap.

But when it came to _listening_ to the words, he was a total loser. For every insecurity anyone ever tried to deny and put out, Armin refused to accept their logic because he could be a dense little fucker when he wanted to. He could help build a person up with his pretty little words, but if those same words even twitched in his direction, he bolted.

 _‘Armin, your strength lies in your_ intellect _!’_

_‘But what good does that do on the field though?’_

_‘You’re not a burden because you_ do _carry your own weight.’_

_‘But do I really?’_

_‘Kiddo, you really need to eat more.’_

_‘Just give it to the other two, they need it more.’_

A little piece of shit. That’s what Armin was to him. A little piece of shit.

Eren was the idiot, the dumbass, the maniac, the hyperactive brat with a less-than-healthy amount of brain cells. Mikasa was the quiet fucker, the one-woman army, the sensitive baby, the scary bitch-ass toddler. And Armin was his little piece of shit, the manipulative kid, the tiny runt.

Armin didn’t listen to words, so Levi resorted to physical means like he always ended up doing.

He stepped up to the blonde, grabbed his ear, and twisted. The reaction was a familiar one.

Instantly Armin’s back bent, and his face scrunched up and he strung together soft, rhythmic ‘ow’s as Levi twisted harder. He raised his arms to hover around Levi’s hand, not daring to try and retaliate but dying thinking about trying to attempt to. It was comical, but it was needed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Levi asked, dead-panned and running on thin ice.

“S-sorry sir!” he shrieked, and Levi’s patience leaked right out of his body like water through a hole in some bucket, except his bucket didn’t have a hole; the whole bottom was ripped off.

He let go of Armin’s ear, and smacked him across the head.

That should get him to his senses.

(It did.)

“What was _that_ for?” Armin whined, clutching his head as he pouted, much like the little boy he always punished for spying on his meetings with other officers. But soon he noticed his slip up, and averted his eyes with hunched shoulders.

What a pain.

“You may be a smartass, but you should know better than to play like that with me.”

Armin’s eyes stayed trained on the floor.

“I just… I thought you wanted us to forget.”

“Well, no. For someone with brains like yours, you can be really fucking dumb.”

The blonde chuckled quietly, but stayed in place. Good lord, was this child difficult. How he had the patience for these brats, he would never know.

All of Levi’s children were idiots.

“Look. I won’t be able to give you three special treatment, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not your legal asshole caretaker.”

At this Armin finally laughed, ear red with its mistreatment, and Levi ignored the tears shining in his blue eyes.

“Only you could say it like that, Heichou.” Ahh, there we go. Looks like old tactics work after all.

“I had to raise you little shits for three years, of course I get to call myself whatever I want.” He remarked but wrapped his arms around Armin’s shoulders non-the-less. For Mikasa and Eren, he only needed to give them some semblance of permission before they launched their affections at him without shame (more so with Eren than anyone else. Most of the time Eren didn’t even wait for his permission, because he was just _that_ annoying.)

But Armin was timid, unlike the other two. Levi needed to give him a starting push, but it was easy sailing after that.

The blonde was still smaller than him, if not than his own height (much to his satisfaction in the knowledge, because at least _Armin_ wasn’t taller). His slender frame easily fit under Levi’s arms and his hair ticked his cheek. He didn’t hear any crying, but could feel his shoulder dampen. (He ignored it for now, but mentally took note of how he was making Armin do his laundry because even if he was emotional right now, the fact of the matter was that his room wasn’t clean enough and now his shirt was wet.)

(He didn’t say anything though, because right now he owed at least this much to the kids he had left.)

“Heichou, we… I missed you a lot.” He rasped in a soft voice, laced with the gentle breathing of a soft wind and the wet tears of a small creek. Levi squeezed his little runt harder.

“I have to admit, the peace and quiet I got with you guys gone was priceless.”

The blonde chuckled, keeping his face pressed against his collar to hide from the world for a little bit.

“But I also have to admit, it was boring without you brats around.”

Armin melted, and Levi rubbed circles in his back the way Armin found comforting, because some things don’t change and he was sure this was one of them.

But other things _do_ change, much to his displeasure.

He pulled away and swatted at Armin’s stomach with a scowl, and the small boy’s ears turned red.

“You guys haven’t been eating.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Bullshit.”

“And there wasn’t enough to go around.”

“Bullshit.”

“I-“

“Bullshit kiddo, now go get Mikasa and get dinner, or I’ll kick both your asses, your emotional trauma be damned.”

“Okay, okay.” He whined, but followed Levi out the door anyway.

Mikasa had frowned when she realized Levi found out she skipped dinner, and then her frown deepened when she realized that Armin didn’t eat either. Levi ‘tch’d at both of them, but dragged them both to the mess hall regardless. _Honestly_ , how had they survived without him?

. . .

Eren found them all eating in the corner, and promptly, sprinted across the room and tackled Levi into a hug, earning several stares from the few stragglers fetching late dinners like them. Levi didn’t even glance at them, because he was trying not to choke on his soup, but also because he didn’t care (though he _really_ was occupied with trying to breath properly).

“You idiot, you're heavy.”

“Heichou! What’re you doing?” Eren ignored the snide (like always), voice muffled in Levi’s back.

“Eating.”

“Without me?!”

“Go get your own food.”

Eren whined, but dragged himself like the dramatic idiot he was to the front to get a late dinner plate before dragging himself back and plopping next to Mikasa with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was _so dramatic,_ and so like the Eren from three years ago, and Levi was strangely glad that he didn’t end up losing that spitfire spirit _._

“So, since you’ve seen Mikasa and Armin, does this mean we get-“

“No special treatment. I thought I told you the first time.”

“But you’re our dad!”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

Eren slumped into his seat and sadly spooned soup into his mouth.

“All my plans for extra dinner rations, gone out the window.” He sighed wistfully, and Levi rolled his eyes.

“Eren, we get enough to eat.” Mikasa butt in, but tore her bread in half anyway and slid it into his plate. Armin tossed Eren his dinner rolls, but Eren tossed them back with a huff.

“You need to eat them.”

“So do you.”

Eren dodged the next attempt, and Mikasa put the second half of her bread in the blonde’s plate, ignoring his sputtering and demands to take it back. Levi gave her his roll and told them all to ‘shut the fuck up and eat the fucking food.’ It was moments like these that brought warmth back into Levi’s chest, where it had laid as a barren wasteland for three years and then some. They were feeding a starving man and watering a drying plant (except the food they were feeding him was poisoned and the water they were using was actually rubbing alcohol, but who was paying attention to details? Because he sure as fuck was _not._ )

“Hey hey, Heichou, I see we’re all taller than you now. Told you I could do it.” Eren suddenly exclaimed smugly, bread halfway into his mouth. He looked ridiculous.

Because Eren, being the kind of kid he was, always boasted about how tall he would grow whenever Levi stacked objects above his reach. Levi had just scoffed at the claims, but now he was feeling the burn of his past remarks in the form of neck pains from having to look up at the smug asshole before him. (Eren never failed to point it out either, because he was a little prick.)

“Say another word and I’ll break your kneecaps. _Then_ you’ll be complaining about your height all over again. Armin, drink your milk or you’ll stay short forever.” He side-eyed the blonde beside him, and Armin sullenly drank his milk.

Eren laughed, Mikasa refused to eat Levi’s food, and Armin kept complaining about being full. As a result, Eren got his nose twisted, Mikasa got her hair tugged, and Armin got a cuff on the ear.

He wouldn’t have had it any other way.

. . .

“So, how many bodies are you idiots at?”

“Eren’s only had this one, but you know how it is. And Armin is on his last one.”

“Do I even want to ask?”

“No.”

“You guys better not die again, or I’ll dig you up and then kill you.”

“Awe, Heichou cares!”

Eren ended up having a red ear to match Armin’s.

. . .

Jean was an asshole.

No matter what he ended up accomplishing or how many titans he killed or how impressive his 3DMG skills were, Jean was still an asshole. He was the most assholery person Eren’s ever met, and Eren’s met a lot of assholes.

He still had his weird crush on Mikasa, still got defensive when exposed about his weird crush on Mikasa, and then loudly denied said weird crush on Mikasa. He was loud and brash, and since Eren was loud and brash they competed for who could be louder and more brash.

Eren hated the fact that he couldn’t win it either, because Jean the asshole was as much of an idiot as Eren, so he didn’t even have _that_ going for himself anymore.

“Horse-face, shut the fuck _up_ already.” Eren yelled, slamming his hands down on the table. Jean copied his movement, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he stood.

“Speak for yourself Jaeger! You’re so damn stupid, I’m surprised you’re still alive!”

“I’m _not_ alive you asshole!”

It was as if someone had muffled the rest of the world as Eren’s words bounced around the cabin walls and echoed endlessly in everyone’s ears. Connie and Sasha looked confused, brows furrowed and already trying to figure out if Eren was joking or not. Christa (Historia) had her spoon halfway up to her mouth, suspended with shock and wide eyes dancing between him and Jean. Armin was melting in his chair, Mikasa was glaring death at Eren, and Levi looked like he wanted to smack his forehead from Eren’s sheer stupidity.

Well, at least Eren won the ‘dumbest loud-mouthed idiot’ award instead of Jean.

. . .

That night, they were crudely reminded of how dead they were.

It was as if Eren’s words had reawakened their dreadful realization at the fact that they weren’t really alive. Being in a human body for so long, being able to eat and feel pain and sense the world around them created a state of ignorant bliss; no longer were they confined to beings that didn’t exist beyond Mikasa’s vision, no longer were they unable to live in the world that was stripped from under their feet too early in life. They had felt alive, with cold blood pumping in their veins and a heart that beat with a silent echo.

But in the cabin, when the lights went out and Jean and Connie fell asleep in their bunk bed, the two-spirit boys couldn’t help but remember the fact that they were dead. Not alive like they had believed. Not allowed to live, because let’s be honest, they were cheating. They were cheating, and now they were caught chin-deep in a web of false truths that hurt to look at.

They couldn’t sleep.

For the few months spent after they graduated, everything was a blur. They forgot their differences with normal, living human beings because nobody was really sleeping with all the horror that was going on around them. And Eren and Armin utilized the night efficiently, whether it was practicing with their gear, sparring, trailing military personal for information, catching the tail ends of forbidden conversations, and simultaneously forgetting that they just couldn’t sleep.

But now, with nothing to distract their minds, they lay in the dark, their thoughts swirling in a sinister pool of endless snakes biting at their ankles, and all that was suspending them from submerging into the churning waters below was a thin thread.

It was tearing pretty quickly.

When the silence became too overbearing and the night clung to his skin and pressed against his ears, Eren got up from his body and made his way outside, knowing Armin was following.

It had been a while since he left, and it kind of felt refreshing. He never thought he’d find being a body-less spirit so rejuvenating, but pretending to be alive took a tole, even though he didn’t really want to go back to being fully dead (he already was fully dead, you didn’t get more dead than him, but he could keep trying to convince himself). He couldn’t feel the night’s cool air or the grass under his feet, but he felt Armin’s hand brush his arm and that was enough, because that was the only true feeling he could ever get.

The moon was bright, brilliantly shining down on long fields of grass and the treetops that danced lazily in the soft breeze. It didn’t catch in Armin’s hair as it should have, but it made him seem more transparent. More spirit-like than Eren liked.

He took Armin’s hand to make sure he didn’t fade away.

(That had been his greatest fear as a kid, before he met Mikasa. That Armin would fade away and leave him for good.)

“Hey.” Armin breathed quietly into the soundless sky, and Eren turned to look at the splatter of stars painted over a black canvas.

“Hey.” He whispered back, and they sat there until the sun rose from the horizon and the breathless night air was stolen from their lungs that couldn’t breathe in the first place.

**Author's Note:**

> Just some fun facts (if you really wanna' read them)  
> \- I had originally planned on Mikasa and Eren dying, but then I thought, how would Armin see them? And then this idea came up  
> \- Levi found out of Mikasa's existence through Kenny, who found out by Riess after Grisha, ya' know, did that to his family. Levi decided to take her in because he wanted to give her the things he never got to have.  
> \- I have originally head cannoned Armin to be shorter than Levi, because in the anime Levi always stood taller than him, but after I finished writing I searched it up and realized that Armin's actually, like, around 2 cm taller. But it's too late now so we're rolling with it.  
> \- I do not, in fact, have a beta, therefore any and all mistakes are mine (and trust me, there are probably a lot)  
> \- Jean was supposed to have been able to sense Marco, because I wanted Marco to die after Jean found him (but Jean wouldn't be able to see or touch him, just speak to him in his head), but the opportunity to insert it never really came up, so like,,, yeah  
> \- The trio can talk to each other in their heads, but need to concentrate in order to sound clear, and it gives them headaches.  
> \- If a spirit doesn't leave the body and the body dies, the spirit may not have the energy to come back, and will disappear indefinitely (or just won't reappear at all).  
> \- After the Shinganshina wall fell, it was actually Eren and Armin who gained the strength to touch Mikasa  
> \- The training corps give the kids a week-long break in their second year, where they can visit their families and relax. Levi was supposed to have come and taken them home with him for their break, but had ended up being too busy, and the trio spent their break at the training facility.  
> \- No one is actually supposed to know about them being adopted, but Erwin knows everything so like,,,  
> \- All the relationships are strictly platonic, if that wasn't already clear :0
> 
> Uh, other than that? I've got nothing.


End file.
